An Unscrupulous Undertaking: Ominous Forecast
A soft, persistent rain has been falling for the last several hours. As is common with Nar Shadda showers, it smells vile. The hours have collected enough 'water' to forms a network puddles on any exposed surface. In spite of this the landing platform is as perpetually busy as ever. A general hustle of travelers, droids, and personnel splash about, too consumed with their own tasks to pay much heed to the odd gathering of misfits assembled near a small commuter shuttle. A half-dozen sentients, mostly humanoid, mill about impatiently. They are clearly waiting for something. In their midst, standing perfectly motionless, is a tall scare-crow of a figure. The landing lights of passing ships reflect off his polished dome, illuminating it's scarred surface and casting deep colored shadows from his strong brow over his sunken eyes. From a distance the effect is foreboding. A spectral skeleton standing sentinel over his wayward children. A lone figure picks its way through the crowded landing pad. It wears black, and holds a black umbrella that wetly reflects the neon signs around the star port in its right hand, and carries a small holdall over its left shoulder. When the figure gets about 10 metres from the group, it tips the umbrella up so that its face can be seen - Nastaran Zohreh. Her face is grim, with her mouth set in a hard line. She makes her way through the waiting sentients to Elias. "Elias," she states. It is not a greeting. "Ahh, if it isn't Miss Zohreh. Or should I say Captain Zohreh. You are just the person we were waiting on." Elias' sinister smile looks all the more predatory in the flashing lights and falling rain. "Allow me to introduce your bridge-crew." He takes a small step back, and places a hand on the woman shoulder, coaxing her to turn to her left. "This is Mr. Wraish," He continues in reference to the stocky human in a rough pilot's suit. "He will be your helmsman. And next to him we have your navigator Mr. Sarbo." Sarbo, is Rodian of a blue-green hue wearing a civilian jump suit common to private shipping crews. "Continuing down the line we have Mr. Drell, your communications officer, and Miss Axelon on the sensors." The two rough looking twi'lek nod. They are impossibly thin, and their sunken eyes and wrinkled head-tails tell of years of spice abuse. Finally a burly Gand armed to the teeth, and sporting the usual breather takes a slight bow. "And this is your security officer. Mr. Zuthra." He turns to Nastaran with a twisted grin. "Any questions?" Nastaran stiffens when Elias puts his hand on her. She raises her shoulder, and steps away from him as she pulls from under his hand. She rubs her shoulder where he has touched her as she looks over her crew. Wraish, Sarbo and Zuthra get curt nods from Nastaran. Nastaran looks Drell and Axelon over before nodding at them. She doesn't look impressed "Right," she says, then turns her attention back to Elias. "Yes. How much cargo are we talking about here?" "About 650 tons. Roughly 5,000 units" Elias replies as he would about any cargo. "The Edean's Ferry, is a Dreadnaught with ample cargo space. The weight shouldn't pose a problem." He signals to the others to board the shuttle. They've probably already been briefed. "It's waiting in orbit as we speak. This shuttle will take you there." The strange man reaches in his pocket for a small data-pad. Thumbs it on, types a few commands and hands it to Nastaran. "This contains all the pertinent arrangements. Who you'll be meeting, and their ships authorization codes for docking. It also contains shipping manifests that will be updated as your receive your cargo." He reaches out before she takes it and presses another command on the pad. "And here, you'll find a time-delayed holo-feed of your mother's room. You'll find the accommodations FAR superior to her prior ones. I am told the doctors have given a very positive prognosis." Nastaran glances at the datapad to check where it is, then takes it from Elias without another glance. Her face is neutral. She clamps the umbrella between her arm and her armput, and awkwardly fiddles with the zip on her bag, and manages to open it enough to slip the datapad in. She nods absently as she closes the zip. "Right," she says grimly. "5000 units is a lot, with just a sole security officer," Nastaran jerks her chin at the Gand. "No disrespect, but I'd want a team of you, frankly," she says easily to the sentient. The man's smile lingers as she expresses her doubt. If he's even slightly concerned about this, he doesn't show it. "I think he should be flattered...The security officer is for the bridge-crew. The rest of the ship will be crewed by droids, including a full security detail of M-3PO units." Obviously droids don't stand much threat to 5,000 Wookies, but he seems pretty confident in their abilities. "They, however, shouldn't be necessary. The cargo will be shipped in 50 environmentally controlled containers. There will be 100 units per container. It will be cramped, but there shouldn't be any problems. The oxygen scrubbers on these containers will be outfitted to pump in a powerful psychotropic sedative that will keep the creatures docile and euphoric. Even if the scrubbers should fail, the effects take hours to fully dissipate, and there are maintenance droids on hand to repair them." Nastaran looks away with a frown as she listens to Elias. She nods curtly and shifts the bag dangling from her shoulder, moving the padded part of the strap to the top of her shoulder. "Fine, let's go." Most of the crew has entered the shuttle now. Sarbo and Zuthra remain outside. The Rodian looks nervous. He hesitates boarding, looking sullen and water-logged as the rain continues to fall. Zuthra gently 'assists' him with a gesture from the business end of the vibro-bayonette on his rifle. The Rodian's skin turns a paler shade of teal as he reluctantly boards. The Gand stands alert at the door waiting for Nastaran to finish with their employer "My dear, don't worry. This should a be a simple assignment. A blue-milk run as they say on the rim." Elias continues his fake salesmen's grin. A flash of lightning brilliantly illuminates the area, destroying all trace of shadow for a brief moment. In that moment his scarred face hovers like the specter of some nightmarish con-man. With a thunderous boom the image vanishes like a ghost buried in darkness as pupils dilate in the absence of the brilliant light. When it's over, he's still there. Unmoved. Unflinching even. His toothy smile still firmly affixed on his skeletal face. "Do not fail." he says with slow measure, full of ominous purpose; equal parts threat, and command. "I want the spiceheads off my crew then," Nastaran, short as she is takes a step closer to the other human and looks into his face. "Right now, no users on my crew. They are a liability." Elias arches a thin eyebrow quizzically. "How demanding. And what leverage do you have to make such demands?" he asks, clearly amused. "The more liabilities we have, the more risk." Nastaran sneers at him. "Don't pretend you don't have anything riding on this job, Elias," she says and looks him in the eye. "Find other crew, or I will." "I have chosen my crew. I will forgive your tone, for your lack of information. Mr. Drell and Mrs. Axelon are expert smugglers, and have been since before you set foot on a starship. They have been sober for the last two weeks and will remain so for the duration of this assignment." His smile is gone, and his piercing stare fixates on Nastaran as his voice deepens with authority. He allows the words to hang in the air a moment before his grin suddenly returns. "If they pose a problem, your welcome to kill them." "A whole two weeks?" Nastaran scoffs. "How can I replace someone mid-job?" Nastaran half turns away from the male human like she is going to walk away. "Have you ever run a job like this before? You know you can't just treat sentients like cannon fodder, right? That you can't just replace people mid-cruise from an limitless supply of bodies? I want replacement crew, and I want them before I step foot on that ship." Elias studies her carefully for a long while, looking to see if she is stubborn enough to do something stupid. The wheels spin inside his steel eyes as the man determines whether to threaten or appease; weighing options against the chances of success of the mission. "Fine." he says after a pregnant moment. He nods to Zuthra and the Gand heads into the ship. The report of blaster fire echoes from within. A moment later, the still smoldering bodies of the two twi-lek are dumped unceremoniously in a puddle at the foot of the boarding ramp. "They're positions will be manned by droids as well. Is this satisfactory?" "Of course," Nastaran says quietly, although to what she is responding isn't clear. She walks toward the ship, pausing to look over her shoulder at Elias. "There are ways, and there are *ways* you bastard." Things on on the smugglers moons were progressing well, the Falleen had a far easier time sorting things out between the pleasure palace and the palace above. He enjoyed trips to the public landing pad, it was often interesting. The two dead twi'lek catch the Falleen's eye and one brow ridge raises slightly. Usually random acts of murder and mayhem were left in the alleys and darker regions of the moon. Still it was not totally undheard of and he was one to know the why of things, so with a shift of his long robes he headed in that direction. Followed by what can only be decribed as thugs, two Nikto trailed the falleen; clad in scavenger armor and bearing firelance rifles. Elias ignores the womans insults, and turns his attention to the approaching posse. His best attempt at a warm smile forces it's way across his guant face. He raises open arms in a welcome greeting. "Ah, You must be the Faleen I've heard so much about. Nasiri I presume?" he says with a slight bow. Nastaran turns and heads up the ramp into the shuttle. Nasiri regards the wide open arms with a bit of a smirk. "Nasiri Gejalli...Lorda by title." he confirms for the man and flicks his fingers in the direction of the corpses. "Your handy work?" The boarding ramp retracts into the bowels of the small shuttle and the hatch closes behind it as the engines begin their power up cycle. The heavily scarred man doesn't miss a beat in reply to Nasiri's question. "My collegue requested a change of crew roster. Nothing serious, just tieing up loose ends." Nasiri tilts his gaze to the corpses and a subtle wave of his fingers towards the edge of the landing pad. "Then be a good sort, and finish the job. Just toss em over the edge?" the falleen is not exactly disgusted...but yea, it is kinda unseemly. The shuttle slowly lifts off the pad. Water, collected in the little gullies of the hull runs off the side as it rises through the rain. The strange man nods politely and heads toward the bodies. He grabs a Lek from each body in each hand. Casually he drags them through the standing puddles toward the edge of the platform. He stops just short and looks over to survey the drop. Satisfied he shoves them over one at a time with his foot. As they plummet toward the bowels of the city the female body smacks against the roof of a low flying speeder. Her limp form spins off wildly into the depths as the speeder swerves back and forth to avoid careening into a nearby building. The man stands at the edge watching the corpses on their trip into oblivion. Nasiri applaudes with his slender hands. "Well done, I appreciate the effort." The Falleen is indeed please. "And you are...now that you have cleaned up your mess." The alien could care less about dead bodies, but rotting forms stink. "I go by many names. In a few short weeks you will know me as Alastar Tritarian." He steps away from the edge and heads toward the Lorda, wiping his gloved hands clean of the imaginary funk of the recently dead. "We will soon be doing business. I own Bonadan Labor Solutions." When the distance has been closed he extends a wet glove to shake hands. Nasiri accepts the hand with a nod. "Ah yes, I recall the initial meeting. I assume you have had no issues procuring your product in the quantity desire?" the shake is brief but polite. "My warehouse as it were is awaiting delivery." Alastar shakes his hand with a powerful, boney grip. "That was actually the pick-up crew that just departed. They should return with the cargo in a few days." he releases Nasiri's hand and digresses. "I don't usually involve myself this early in the process, but I wish to ensure that this is handled properly. Given the scale of the transaction, I'm sure you understand."